The Return
by Jennistar1
Summary: Raven comes back to the mansion. The Brotherhood comes back to the mansion. Even Erik - after seven years and a knock on the head - comes back to the mansion. But as they are about to discover, returning is only the beginning of their problems. After all, a lot can happen in seven years and things...well, things have changed... Erik/Charles and also Charles/Hank. Spoilers for DOFP.
1. The Return

It takes Raven two months and a skirmish with some members of the newly formed Brotherhood for her to go it alone. It is eight more months before she ends up at the door to the Xavier mansion.

It's a crisp autumn morning when she arrives, the air fresh and new. She and Charles decide to take their conversation out of the mansion, mostly to escape the stares of its students, who know exactly who, and what, she is. They go to the orchard, which is thick with the sweet smell of rotting apples. In the past it was always their favourite place to talk.

Raven kneels next to Charles's chair, looks up into his trusting blue eyes. "This isn't going to be a happy ending just like that, Charles," she says, bluntly going to the crux of the matter like she always has. "It's not going to be like the past. It'll be different."

Charles is clean-shaven again, though still long-haired. He smiles at her, the muscles of his mouth twitching after their long abandonment. "Good," he says. "I want it to be."

Raven stares up up at him, watches him pass a hand over his face, struggling to say exactly what he means. "You're your own person, Raven, you can come and go as you please," he tells her. "You can get involved in anything you want and you can stay out of anything you want. I'm not going to expect anything."

It's a generosity she hasn't deserved, but Charles has always been like that, has always given to anyone regardless of whether they have warranted it.

"I'll try hard," she says around the lump in her throat. "I'll try my best."

Charles smiles absently, as if remembering something in his past. "Your best is good enough," he says.

* * *

It takes seven years - and a knock on the head during a clash with the sodding X-Men that puts him in a coma for four months - for Erik to end up at the Xavier mansion.

In the past few years, members of the Brotherhood have been gradually defecting to the X-Men, so he isn't surprised when he wakes up in a laboratory to discover the last remnants of the Brotherhood wearing distinctly guilty looks on their faces. He realises instantly that he is in the bowels of the Xavier mansion – only a laboratory made by Charles could feel this_ comfortable_.

"Oh fantastic," he sighs. "How long have I been here?"

"Four months," Toad confesses. "The Professor said his medical facilities could help you better than a hospital."

This is probably correct, Erik thinks grumpily, and adds another item on his mental list entitled 'Reasons You Owe Charles'. It is getting to be quite a long list.

"So I suppose you've all turned traitors by now then," he says.

The Brotherhood glance at each other, shamefaced. Sabretooth says, "Sorry Boss, the pension plan was just way better."

A few of the Brotherhood titter nervously. Erik sighs resignedly and lets it go. He's got a thumping headache anyway.

Charles comes to visit him later, seated in his wheelchair and looking a bit embarrassed.

"Sorry about the Brotherhood," he says, sounding not sorry at all.

Erik glares at him. Charles has smile lines around his mouth now that were not there seven years ago. And there is that old 1960s twinkle back in his eyes which Erik was afraid the 1970s had wiped out altogether. Suddenly he can't shout at Charles at all.

"Give me a few months," Charles continues, "And you won't want to leave either."

Erik narrows his eyes. "Do I have a choice?" he asks, more harshly than he meant to.

Something in Charles's expression flinches. "Of course you do," he says hastily. "Of course you do, Erik."

Erik wants to run out of the mansion and never look back. But there comes a point where you have to just stop running. He closes his eyes and takes Charles's hand, resting on the arm of the wheelchair. "Thanks for looking after me," he says.

He hears the smile in Charles's voice when he says, "I'll get a room made up for you."

* * *

A few days later, Erik and Raven have their reunion on the doorstep to the mansion. It is a hot, steamy summer morning. Their reunion takes its form in a proffered cup of coffee and a friendly punch on the arm, and then suddenly it's as if the last eight years never happened.

Raven briefs Erik on all the different mutants being taught at the school, what their names are, where they're from, what they can do. She mentions some of the lessons she has attended and how she's even taught a few of them. They don't talk about the X-Men, because that's an entirely different conversation for another day. But Raven does say, before she goes indoors, "Things have changed, Erik. People have changed. You might just want to bear that in mind."

* * *

Erik cottons on to what she's talking about pretty quickly. He goes, warily, to a dinner one night, to find a mix of Brotherhood and X-Men members all sitting together. There is some squabbling, but being unconscious for four months seems to mean that he's missed the worst of it. What is more surprising to him is the fact that they've made _friends._ Sabretooth and Wolverine appear to be firm friends, comparing fighting techniques over a bottle of truly awful whiskey, and, to everyone's astonishment, Toad and _Cyclops_ also seem chummy – they sit discussing music as easily as if one of them hadn't been spewing green goo at the other last time they met. There are others, members of the Brotherhood who left at different times over the last eight years, all apparently integrated into the X-Men life. Raven, unsurprisingly, has charmed everyone and appears to be the life of the party.

Charles sits in between Hank and Juggernaut, sharing jokes and smiles, and it's halfway between the dessert and the coffee when Erik looks up and realises something else entirely.

Charles and Hank have taken to sitting very close to each other, talking to each other quietly. Their faces are half turned away from the table, but Erik can still see the look on Charles's face. It stops him dead.

The look on Charles's face is the look of Charles in love. Erik knows this, because Charles used to turn that look on him.

Charles and Hank are _together._

* * *

It's obvious when you're looking for it. Erik watches them closely for a few days after the dinner. Hank never goes far from Charles's side, and when he does, Charles eventually moves over to him, entirely unconsciously. They sit too close to each other, as if they're afraid the other will disappear if they don't. They spent most of the 1970s in this huge mansion with only each other, and it shows. They have not shaken off that old co-dependence.

And as well as that, there is a light that sparks in Hank's eyes when Charles speaks to him, and when Hank smiles at Charles he always sits up in sudden interest. The love there is so palpable, Erik doesn't know how he missed it before.

Erik feels like he has stepped into darkness, expecting the floor to be there, only for his body to drop into emptiness instead.

* * *

That summer is so _hot. _The students muck around in the sun every chance they get, the teachers hold lessons outside, and for a while there is peace in the outside world so the X-Men relax a little and the jet is left underground. Erik – who loves the snap of frost, of falling snow and dark winter nights – spends the next few days lurking in the shade of trees and barely talking to anyone.

Charles wheels up to him one boiling hot afternoon. Erik is leaning drowsily against an old oak trunk, watching Arclight and Callisto do some gentle exercises with Storm. He is so sleepy, he doesn't hear Charles approach until he speaks.

"Lovely day, isn't it?"

Erik starts awake and looks up. Charles is leaning on the arm of his wheelchair, smiling down at him. His face is dappled in light and shade, one eye a bright blue, the other in shadow. "Did I wake you?" he asks teasingly.

Erik valiantly tries to pull himself together. Charles backs his chair against the tree trunk and then slips down the wheelchair with arms made strong from constant use, sitting himself down on the grass next to Erik, his back against the chair's footrest. Suddenly they are on an equal level again.

"I've got something to ask you," he says.

He sounds businesslike, which is just as well because if he tried to say anything more...heartfelt, Erik wouldn't have a clue what to do.

"Which is?" he asks.

Charles turns his face to Erik's, and Erik belatedly realises they haven't been this close together since they were on that plane to Paris, far too long ago. He tries to keep his breathing steady, his thoughts dispassionate.

"I'm getting reports from some of my X-Men living abroad," Charles says, apparently unaware of what he is doing to Erik, "Of some ex-Brotherhood members who are trying to band together again. They're calling themselves the 'Second Brotherhood', apparently."

He smiles a little wryly, no doubt sensing Erik's inner revulsion at there being a need for a _Second_ Brotherhood. "Anyway," he says, "I was wondering if there was anything you could do about it."

Erik pauses, immediately stung, and then sits up, very slowly. "Like what?"

Charles hesitates, sensing a little of Erik's mood. "Well..."

"You think I can just write to them and tell them off like children?" Erik demands. "You think they'd listen to me? You think one word from me and they'll change their beliefs? How stupid are you, Charles?"

Charles blinks and opens his mouth to answer, but Erik continues before he can. "_No one_ will listen to me," he snaps. "All right? Not the old Brotherhood and certainly not the new one. I was once a great leader and now I've defected to your side. Not one of them will ever be interested in anything I say ever again. Your ridiculous X-Men ensured that. I have nothing. I have _no power over anyone_. I don't even have - "

He stops his mouth before he can go too far, before he tumbles into that hole which has been opening up inside him since he first saw Charles look at Hank. Charles narrows his eyes like he's reaching into Erik's thoughts, so Erik shoves his thoughts away hastily, focusing hard on anything else – _the heat, it's hot, isn't it hot today, such a hot sunny day, hot day, sunny day, hotsunnyhotsunnyhotsunny -_

Charles shakes his head, as if getting rid of a particularly irritating fly. "Childish, Erik."

"You said you'd never go into my head again," Erik counters sharply.

"_Fine_," Charles snaps back. "I won't. And I won't ask for your help again."

"_Fine_," Erik echoes. "Good."

They glare at each other, and Erik realises abruptly, all over again, how close their faces are. Too close. He hears himself breathe in sharply, just as Charles's ridiculously blue eyes dart down to his mouth. Suddenly they aren't glaring so much as staring, and Erik seems to have forgotten how to move away.

"Erik," Charles says hesitantly, then seems to pause, as if he has lost the words on his tongue.

Erik makes a noise of assent. He is suddenly beyond speech.

Charles's eyes flick down to Erik's mouth again, then he says, slowly, as if the words are being wrenched from him, "Can you help me back on my chair again?"

For some reason, it's the mention of Charles's wheelchair that recalls Erik back to himself. He sits back, huffing out a laugh, and Charles smiles, a little tentatively, a little pleadingly. "Of course," Erik says, as gallantly as he can with so little air in his lungs, and crooks a finger. Charles is wearing a metal belt and has metal buttons on his clothes, metal parts to his shoes. It is enough for Erik to lift Charles gently off the grass and settle him back into his chair.

Charles smiles again, but this time it slips slightly, makes his mouth twist. "Thanks," he says.

It is suddenly too hot, and not even the shade of the tree is enough to cool Erik down. He stands up hurriedly. "I need to go and - " he starts, then gives up on excuses and merely flees.

He doesn't look back as he goes. He doesn't want to see what he is leaving behind.

* * *

Erik watches Charles and Hank at dinner. He can't _not_ watch them. It's like a scab on his skin – he has to keep picking away at it.

They argue, but they don't argue like Erik and Charles argue – they argue with smiles and in-jokes, and it never gets too heated before one of them capitulates. They talk constantly, sometimes at the same time, and the conversation repeatedly becomes so technical that Erik can't understand a word they're saying. They are experts at switching from their conversation to another around the table and then lapsing back into it, sometimes as much as half an hour later, as if they simply paused for breath. They are, Erik realises, a brilliant team.

The air is so hot. He can't breathe.

* * *

Reports of this _Second Brotherhood_ come thick and fast after Charles mentions it to Erik, so that soon even the students know about it. They start shooting Erik sly looks, ranging from slightly nervous to downright hostile, as though they think he is going to suddenly declare he is Magneto again and kill them in one fell swoop. The X-Men and some of the old Brotherhood members treat him with barely disguised suspicion, clearly believing him to be a spy. If any of them go to Charles with their fears he must allay them, because, for all the looks, no one actually directly confronts Erik.

Raven gets the closest. She corners him cheerfully in a corridor one afternoon and says, "So are you leaving us then?"

"What?" Erik grunts.

"For the _Second Brotherhood_," she elaborates dramatically. "Sounds like they're turning out to be just your sort of people."

"I don't have a _sort of people_," Erik snarls, and tries to get around her, but she steps smoothly in his way.

"Then what are you doing here, if not spying?" she asks, a bit more sharply. "Because as far as I can see, Erik, you haven't taken part in anything since you arrived."

She's mostly right – he's spent a lot of time 'overseeing outdoors training practices' (read: falling asleep under trees in the boiling heat) or 'covering classes as a substitute teacher' (an unqualified disaster, and one that Cyclops refuses to let him repeat).

"I'm - " Erik starts, and then stumbles. What _is _he doing here? "I'm...deciding," he says at last. He surveys Raven closely, whose face falls a little. "You did the same, didn't you? You should know what I'm talking about."

She nods, unable to deny it. "Getting involved in things helped me," she points out. "Nothing that the X-Men do, I couldn't quite...bring myself to get involved in that. But you know – teaching, managing schedules, doing some practical training. Just whatever needs my talents, really. It helped me work out what side I'm on."

"Charles's," Erik says, tasting bitterness in his mouth.

"My own," Raven corrects sharply. "I'm free to decide what I want to do, Erik, just as you are."

Erik opens his mouth, but no words are forthcoming. Raven puts a hand to his shoulder. "If it helps, I think the _Second Brotherhood_ is a bad idea," she tells him. "There is only so long one can survive on hate before one dies of it."

She walks away then, which is just as well because Erik can't think of a thing to say.

* * *

During dinner that night, Erik casually mentions to Charles that he is at a bit of a loose end at the moment, and is there anything he can do to help? The next thing he knows, he is recruited into helping Wolverine with some of the school defences, taking over some of the lessons in control from Storm (at first heavily supervised because Cyclops still doesn't trust him and honestly, he only stuck _one _bratty kid to the ceiling, it's not _that_ big a deal) and helping Hank make improvements to Cerebro.

He's not entirely happy about the last task.

Hank is exactly how he was in the 1960s and the 1970s – intelligent, persistently a little nervous and mindful to a fault. He is unfailingly polite to Erik, and Erik tries not to list the reasons Hank should hate him in his head. During their first session he is uncharacteristically obedient, lifting planks of metal where Hank tells him without any complaint. In their second session, he asks more questions about Cerebro and gets enthusiastic answers about each one. In their third, he argues about one of Hank's theories and they abandon the work to snipe at each other instead.

The argument carries over to dinner that night, which Charles cuts short when Erik calls Hank 'Beastie' and Hank's face starts turning a suspicious blue colour. They don't talk for the rest of the evening, and Erik starts dreading their fourth session together.

In the end, it seems he has nothing to worry about. Hank is just as polite as he was during their other sessions, and they carefully don't mention their argument. Instead Hank directs Erik in which metal plate to attach where, and for a while they focus only on the practicalities.

And then Hank says, completely out of the blue, "Do you still love him?"

Erik gasps. The metal plate he was lifting falls out of his power's grip and plummets to the bottom of Cerebro.

There is a terrible silence. Erik stares down at the fallen metal plate, forcing himself not to snap, not to betray any emotion, to push it back, _push it all back_ -

"What do you expect me to say?" he says coldly, at last.

"Nothing," Hank says, sounding a bit rattled, as if he is not sure why he asked. "You don't need to say anything."

There is another long silence, and then Erik masters himself, whispers _rage and serenity_ inside his head and lifts the metal plate again, spiralling it through Cerebro and attaching it to where it is meant to be.

They spend the rest of the session acting as though Hank said nothing at all.

* * *

Erik skips dinner that night. Instead he goes up to his room and, after a lot of pacing, succumbs to the temptation and removes his old metal helmet from the box under his bed.

He sits on the bed and stares down at it. This helmet is Magneto's, not Erik's. When he wore it, he was Magneto. Magneto may not have been much, but at least he knew who he was. Erik has no idea. He isn't of the Brotherhood, not anymore, but he isn't an X-Man – God forbid. He isn't a student in the school but he isn't a teacher either. He is a mutant, but he is starting to worry that he is also more human than he realised. He is a lone wolf, but he also craves company – he craves – most of all he _craves_ –

He jams the helmet on his head hastily and then allows himself to let it all out. _Charles, Hank,_ their utter, utter _perfection_, that ridiculous question, _do you still love him_, and the answer he'd longed to shout, _yes, I do, of course I do, I never stopped_, but he can't say it, can't even think it because Charles might read his thoughts and he can't have Charles reading that, he can't have Charles knowing, Charles will never go back to him, not when he has Hank, not when he has that perfect life, why would he want Erik, who _would_, not even his own Brotherhood wanted Erik, they all defected to the X-Men, to Charles, and he can't blame them because he did it as well, but no one has ever wanted _Erik – _

He clutches the side of his bed and bows his head, and he makes absolutely no noise at all.

No one will ever know. As long as he makes no noise and wears the helmet, no one will ever know.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, folks! This is a multi-chapter story and the next part will be up in the next few days.


	2. The Temptation

Things unravel a bit after that. Erik and Wolverine are unable to work together without being truly loathsome to each other at the best of times, and after they come to blows that leave Erik with a scratched face and Wolverine with aching muscles, Charles angrily instructs them to spend some time apart. Teaching hapless students lessons in control is getting boring, so Erik takes to bunking off half of them, when he can avoid the ire of Storm anyway. And he is no longer able to be anything but poisonous to Hank.

Hank takes it well, clearly adapted to foul moods after having to deal with 1970s addict Charles, but his patience only makes Erik feel worse, which makes him act worse. He knows that if he wants to hide his love for Charles, he should be nicer to Hank, but every time Hank is particularly kind or thoughtful, Erik just wants to punch him in the face.

He spends a lot of evenings on the edge of his bed, helmet slammed on his head, battling to stay silent.

* * *

The students organise an outdoor summer party to celebrate the hot weather which, in Erik's opinion, is the stupidest thing he's ever heard, but Wolverine and Sabretooth have managed to get in several crates of German beer for the occasion, so Erik goes with the express purpose of getting as drunk as possible.

It's actually quite pleasant in the end – the party starts just as the sun is setting so the air is cool, and someone has strung up little lights in the trees and set up a record player, and soon the students are dancing to The Beatles while the adults stand around and drink. After a few too many, most of them take the floor as well – Cyclops and Jean swaying together softly, Storm going through a variety of partners and Raven devouring Hank's attention with her most irresistible smiles. Charles gets surrounded and whirled around by the children, laughing as they push the wheelchair around, his hair fluttering in the breeze and blue eyes twinkling. The sight of him makes Erik reach for the nearest bottle and start drinking in earnest.

Wolverine comes and sits by him at some point, and promptly offers him an enormous cigar. "You look like you need it," he grunts by way of explanation.

Erik takes it, lights it, and tries not to choke on the flavour. Wolverine eyes him with a bit of a grin on his face and then says, "Sorry about the scratches."

Said scratches are mostly healed, though Erik can still feel the roughened skin when he touches his cheek. He says, grudgingly, "Sorry about trying to snap your metal skeleton in half."

Wolverine laughs heartily into his beer, which makes Erik blink. It turns out this guy has quite a dark sense of humour to him. "You're all right, bub," Wolverine says, chuckling. "We should keep working on the defences. I promise not to slap you down again."

Erik eyes him. "It was my opinion that I won that round."

Wolverine snorts. "Let's just call it a draw."

Erik smiles into his beer and says nothing. Wolverine claps a hand on his shoulder, then appears to think of something. "By the way," he says. "I know what it's like."

Erik tries not to panic. "What what's like?"

"Being a lone wolf," Wolverine says, and he is so serious that Erik can't quite feel relieved about the abrupt turn the conversation has taken. "I was wandering alone for ages 'til the X-Men found me. I know what it feels like to think you don't...belong. So, if you ever want to talk..."

"I'm fine," Erik cuts off, stiffly.

"Yeah." Wolverine says. He slaps Erik's shoulder again. "Yeah, okay."

He stands up, wandering into the thick of the dancefloor, where Jean is now clamouring for his hand while Cyclops takes Storm for a spin.

Erik drinks more and tries not to think how, in his Brotherhood, they never had anything like this.

* * *

Later on, when darkness has properly fallen, and most of the students have been banished to bed while the adults drink and dance some more, Raven comes to see him. She looks about as drunk as Erik feels, and when she smiles, it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'm the same," she declares, taking Erik's bottle and swigging from it without so much as a by-your-leave.

The world is pleasantly fuzzy right now, and Erik doesn't have enough braincells to decipher what Raven means. "What?" he demands.

Raven tilts her head, yellow eyes surveying him. "You'd think someone with a broken heart could spot it in someone else."

Bit of Erik freeze. He stares at her, feeling suddenly entirely too sober.

"You and Charles," Raven says, keeping her voice low. "Me and Hank. Got it?"

Erik glances over at the people in question. Hank is standing by the food table, smiling as Charles talks enthusiastically him and carefully eating his way through a slice of cake. They seem totally comfortable and happy together.

He remembers Raven dancing with Hank, the smiles she bestowed on him.

"Got it," he says, half to himself. "Shut up now."

"Shutting up," says Raven, then kisses him swiftly on the cheek and leaves on the hunt for more beer.

Erik sighs and finishes his bottle. On the dancefloor, Storm laughs at something Sabretooth has said to her and Psylocke and Jean are in deep conversation about some technical telepathic subject. Erik decides, abruptly, that he has had enough – of the beer, of the party, of this strange mixture of the Brotherhood and X-Men, of everyone being _friends,_ and turns to go as quietly as he can.

* * *

Naturally, Charles catches him up before he even gets halfway to the mansion. "Sick of socialising?"

Erik pauses and glances behind him. Charles smiles at him from his wheelchair and the bench beside him, situated under a group of silver birch trees which Erik had marched past without a second glance. It occurs to Erik that Charles could have been hiding there after Erik's conversation with Raven, and had just manipulated Erik not to see him.

Charles cocks his head, as if reading Erik's suspicions, but says nothing. He merely waves a hand at the empty bench beside him.

Erik is unable to do anything but obey. He sits on the bench beside Charles's chair, and Charles leans on the wheelchair armrest as is fast becoming his habit, and looks closely at Erik. His eyes are very blue in the dark twilight.

"Do you hate it here?" he asks. His pupils are quite large, Erik notices blearily, which means he must be quite a bit drunk.

"Sometimes," Erik finds himself answering truthfully.

Something in Charles's expression flickers, something so worrying that Erik adds hastily, "I'm not leaving for the Second Brotherhood, Charles."

"I know," Charles says instantly. "I know you're not."

"Good," Erik says. His tongue feels numb with alcohol and proximity to Charles. "Right. Good."

"It's just," Charles continues, the words seemingly falling out of him. "Sometimes I can't feel you. I mean, I'm not – I'm not reading your mind – I can just sense it, like everyone in the school, a sort of vague presence in my head – yours is this kind of...well it's _warm_ really, which I know people would think is strange because you seem so cold, but to me your mind has always been very warm – "

"Charles," Erik snaps, struggling to stay focused. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't feel your mind sometimes," Charles says, sharp and to the point. "You shut it off. I'm...guessing you're wearing the helmet?" He waits for Erik to say something, but Erik can't speak, can't deny anything. Charles takes a deep breath. "I don't want to mistrust you, Erik, and yet I can't help but..."

"I'm not betraying you," Erik answers, feeling as though he needs to make this clear, if nothing else.

"Then what – "

"Charles," Erik interrupts. "Please don't ask me. I won't tell you. I'm not betraying you and I'm not going anywhere, I need you to trust me on this."

Charles blinks. Erik tries to blank out his thoughts, in case Charles is rifling through his mind, but Charles doesn't seem to be. He looks away for a moment, then nods. "Okay," he says gently. "I won't."

Erik nods as well. He thinks he should probably stand up and walk off, but suddenly the mansion seems too far away and Charles is right _there_.

"I'm glad you're staying," Charles says, and his eyes are back on Erik and Erik couldn't move away even if he wanted to, and their faces are so close, they shouldn't be this close – "You've made this school much more interesting."

"Interesting?" Erik echoes in disbelief. "All I've done is have fights with people!"

Charles smiles, as though he is privy to an aspect of Erik's personality that Erik isn't. "You've done so much more than that," he says. "You don't even realise. You challenge people when they need it. You make them think. Erik..." He shuffles closer to Erik and now they really are too close, their noses are almost brushing. "I can help people," Charles says, "But you can change them."

Erik thinks, suddenly, of Hank, and tries to move away. He can't. He leans in instead.

Charles breathes in when their lips meet, but he doesn't move away. Something that feels close to hope alights in Erik's chest and makes him bold enough to reach for Charles, grab a fistful of Charles's shirt collar and deepen the kiss, clamping onto Charles's bottom lip. Charles exhales softly against Erik's mouth and tilts his head, and suddenly the tip of his tongue is against Erik's and the feeling starts something dark spinning through Erik's head. He clutches at Charles's shirt, suddenly drowning, and Charles puts a hand against his cheek – the one Wolverine scratched, maybe Charles can feel the scratches against his palm, maybe he can feel the heat pumping through Erik, the blood in his skin – and then they are kissing desperately and deeply, and Erik has forgotten a way out of this, there is nothing but this, there never has been...

Charles pulls away – not sharply, as if he has suddenly realised what he is doing – but with a slow resignation. Erik opens his eyes, lets go of Charles's shirt. "_Charles,_" he begs.

"Sorry," Charles whispers. "I can't. Shit, sorry. Sorry, I should have – I should have told you – Erik, I – Hank – "

"You and Hank are together," Erik supplies for him, suddenly not wanting to hear it from Charles's mouth.

Charles hesitates. "You knew?"

"It's obvious." The bitterness in Erik's voice is evident now, there is no stopping it, and suddenly Charles realises – Erik can see the moment he realises in his eyes – the real reason Erik has been wearing that helmet.

"Erik," he breathes, but Erik is already scrambling for his escape, standing up swiftly and cutting through the grass back to the mansion, back to the safety of lights and locked rooms.

He shouldn't have done anything. He shouldn't have done anything at all.

* * *

It turns out locked rooms are not so safe after all. About half an hour after Erik escapes into his room, there is a steady knocking on his door. He collapses on his bed and puts a pillow over his drunken head but the knocking continues.

"I could do this all night, Erik," Charles's voice says warningly. "I know you're awake."

It is times like this when Charles sounds less like the kindly Professor everyone knows and more like the powerful telepath who could make you do anything he wanted. Erik gets off his bed and opens the door.

Charles looks up at him, then blinks. "I - don't know what to say," he says. His voice is soft and uncertain, thawing the last of Erik's fury. He kneels next to Charles's wheelchair, defeated.

"You don't have to say anything," he says. "Forget it. It never happened, all right?"

Charles looks agonised. "You should have told me. You should have told me it hurt."

Erik half closes his eyes. "Charles," he says, and bows his head.

After a moment, Charles's hand touches his head, lightly but warmly. It gives Erik enough strength to say the rest of what he wants to say. "You and Hank are perfect," he says to the floor. "You're perfect together. I can't – you mustn't let me upset that."

The hand on his head trembles, but Charles says nothing.

"Good," says Erik, in response to the silence. He stands up, displacing Charles's hand. Charles is staring at him, blue eyes very wet. "Good night, Charles," he says, and escapes into his room.

It is a long time before he hears Charles's wheelchair move away from the door.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed and thank you all so much for the reviews! :) Next chapter up soon.


	3. The Mission

The Second Brotherhood get bigger, their actions more destructive, and then, eventually, one of the X-Men come to Charles with the report that a group of them are planning to kill the President's current right hand man, General Horner, who has repeatedly influenced the President with his anti-mutant policies.

Erik has heard of the man and hated him, so when he hears about the plot to kill him, he merely laughs.

Charles, sitting with him around a table of hastily gathered X-Men and ex-Brotherhood members, raises an eyebrow. "I take it that means you won't be joining our mission to save the General then, Erik."

"What?" Erik stares at him. "Why would you do that? The man wants to exterminate mutants!"

Charles runs a hand through his hair. "You know why, Erik. By saving the General, we're showing him that not all mutants are bad. We're helping him to change his beliefs."

"Ah," Erik nods. "Emotional blackmail, I see. So you're going to be saving the General in the hope that he'll feel indebted to you."

He gets a few nasty looks from the X-Men because of that. Something that looks like real rage flickers in Charles's eyes. "Of course not."

"Yes you are." Erik leans forward. "If you really want to help the situation, Charles, you should let the General die. Then you get a mutant to replace him, and they can influence the President into more pro-mutant policies. It's obvious."

The table of mutants mutter to each other. Charles sits back and looks at Erik as though Erik has severely disappointed him. It's a look Erik has received many times before, and yet it has never failed to both upset and irritate him in equal measure.

"Can I get a show of hands from the people who wish to take on the mission to save the General," Charles says to the room at large, his voice soft.

All of the X-Men and half of the ex-Brotherhood raise their hands. Including Raven. Erik stares at her aghast, and she gives him a half-shrug, completely unapologetic.

He sits back in his seat, defeated.

* * *

Charles catches him up in the corridor afterwards, still with that same look on his face. "I had hoped," he says, sounding unbearably posh which Erik knows he only does when he is truly furious, "That you were going to be more help in there, Erik."

"Help?" Erik wheels around, glaring down at Charles. "What possible help could I be?"

"Your support would have convinced more ex-Brotherhood members to get involved," Charles replies bluntly. "We'll need them, and if you'd agreed to join us - "

Erik loses his temper. He leans down on the wheelchair armrests so that he can look Charles in the eyes. "You think I'm going to agree to join you on a _suicide mission_?" he hisses. "You think I'm going to persuade others into doing so? Because that's what this is Charles, make no mistake. Some of these mutants are going to die and for what? To save some bastard who hates the sight of us?" He leans forward, keeping his voice low. "You're going to have their deaths on your conscience, Charles. I hope you're ready for it."

1960s Charles would have accused Erik of being over-dramatic. 1970s Charles would have reeled with the repercussions, perhaps violently enough to give up the mission altogether. This Charles meets Erik's gaze, secure in his beliefs, and refuses to be frightened.

"They know what they're doing, Erik. If they die, they die saving a life. For some people that's a good enough reason."

Erik smirks and stands up. "Not for me."

He turns and starts to walk down the corridor. Charles's voice, raised and finally showing some of its anger, follows him. "For God's sake, Erik, have some basic humanity!"

Erik turns, walking backwards, and holds out his hands. "Why should I? I'm not human."

* * *

Charles does not speak to Erik again, and Erik, in response, refuses to hide how pleased he is that the General is soon to meet a grisly end. To his astonishment, more rather than less ex-Brotherhood members join Charles's cause, so that in the end most of the adults have signed up to the mission. Raven doesn't explain to Erik why she decided to go with them and nothing Erik says seems to affect her. In the end he gives up. She is her own person after all, just as she said.

Charles breaks his silence the night before the mission, knocking on Erik's door tentatively just before Erik is about to retire for the night.

"I've come to ask you a favour," he says when Erik opens the door.

Erik raises his eyebrows and leans against the door-frame. "Another one, Charles?"

Charles refuses to be baited. He locks gazes with Erik. "Will you protect the school while we're away?"

His voice is deadly serious, and it reminds Erik how important the school and its pupils are to Charles. More important than anything else, he is sure.

He drops his aggressive stance, softens his soul a little. "I will. I promise."

Charles doesn't quite smile, but something warms in his expression. "Thank you."

Erik wants to say something, wants to instruct Charles to be careful, wants to grip his arms and beg him not to leave, not to put himself in that danger, but his throat refuses to work, his muscles refuse to move. In the end he merely nods and closes the door behind him, then collapses against it and hates himself violently for a few minutes.

* * *

He sits on the mansion doorstep in the boiling heat the next day and watches the jet shoot off into the distance, and wonders, with a sinking heart, how many of its passengers will come back alive.

After a bit, Jean Grey comes up and offers him a cup of tea. She is midway through a heavy telepathic course with Charles that will give her power over her Phoenix side permanently, and it has temporarily made her powers too unstable to be anything but a liability on a mission. Erik has noticed her irritation, barely concealed, at not being involved, but she has said nothing to anyone about it. Every so often her good behaviour drives him right up the wall.

Despite his annoyance with her sometime-sycophancy, Jean has become oddly attached to him. She'll ignore his promptings that she should let the Phoenix side of her run free with a smile and shake of the head, but he sometimes suspects she listens more than she lets on. And she seems to enjoy his blatant disregard for rules.

Erik, in return, expected himself to like the Phoenix side of her, when it gets the better of her on rare occasions, but actually the Jean side has been wriggling its way into his affections – more slowly but with more persistence. Her gentle calm sometimes relaxes him when nothing else will.

It relaxes him now. He sips the tea and breathes.

"The Professor will be fine," Jean says. She sounds nervous as well, but more confident than Erik.

Erik shoots her a sidelong glance. "How can you be sure I was thinking of him?"

Jean smiles slightly and taps the side of her head. Erik huffs out a sigh into his tea. He'd forgotten there was more than one telepath in this damn school.

"Hank will look after him," Jean continues.

Erik closes his eyes against the pain.

* * *

The jet is back with them late that night, and as soon as the hatch opens, Raven is running out of it and into Erik's arms. She is scratched and bruised and shaking, and her fear makes Erik panic. "He's not – " he chokes out.

Raven stands back, her yellow eyes shining with tears. "He's alive, but only just. He got – he got injured – "

A stretcher with a crumpled body on it is carried down the hatch by Wolverine and Sabretooth. Jean lets out a little cry and runs to them.

Erik doesn't move. His legs have forgotten how they work. He clutches at Raven, and she clutches him back.

* * *

They wait while Hank and Jean and several other X-Men take Charles down to the laboratory. Erik sits with an undrunk whiskey and valiantly tries to remember that the lab is wonderfully well-equipped, better than any hospital, that it helped him and so it must help Charles, it must.

"Did you at least succeed?" he asks Raven, who paces until her legs are so tired that she has to sit down. She nods wearily.

"The General is alive."

"Right." Erik stares down at his whiskey. "So he's alive and Charles might be dead. Right. Right." He feels Raven cast a worried glance at him, but he's too panicked to reassure her, too panicked to do anything but grasp his glass and hope, hope, hope like Charles always wanted him to...

Hank comes to them just as dawn is breaking, grey with exhaustion. "He's stable," he says to their terrified faces. "He's unconscious but he'll probably be fine in a week or so."

Raven sags in relief. Erik, however, is immediately swamped by rage. He stands up. "No thanks to you," he snaps.

Hank's face is lined with fatigue, but his eyes sharpen behind their lenses. "Excuse me?"

"_You_ were meant to protect him," Erik charges. "You were meant to make sure he stayed safe, now look at him!"

"Erik," Raven warns quietly, but Erik is beyond angry now, he is in that white hot space behind it.

"You're meant to love him," he snarls at Hank. "You're meant to care for him, what the hell did you do when he fell, _were you even thinking of him?_"

Hank's eternally calm demeanour finally snaps. "Me?" he hisses. "You want to accuse me? You weren't even there, Erik!"

"I was protecting the school!" Erik shouts.

"You were _hiding_!" Hank yells. "Like you've been doing since you got here! You've been hiding away, pretending you're like us when you're not, when you're exactly the Erik you were before – when you're still Magneto! You let him down time and time again, can't be bothered to listen to him, can't be bothered to defend him, can't be bothered to fight for a cause he believes in, to agree with what he wants because you care about him and you tell _me _I'm not thinking about him? You're a waste of his time, you always have been!"

Erik does what he has been aching to do and punches Hank in the face. Hank collapses spectacularly.

Raven runs to his side, glaring daggers at Erik and it is this that makes Erik reign in his fury and retreat. He runs blindly for the nearest door.

* * *

He plucks up the courage to go to the lab where Charles is less than twenty-four hours later. Charles is lying unconscious in a bed, looking very pale and small. Hank is sitting over him while monitors bleep and whirr around him. He has, Erik notices with relish, a rather impressive black eye. He glares at Erik when he comes in.

Erik hovers by the doorway. "You should get some rest," he points out. Hank looks about ready to drop.

Hank's glare intensifies. "I'm fine."

"You're no use to Charles if you're too exhausted to act when something happens," Erik snaps.

"Apparently I'm no use to Charles anyway," Hank snipes back.

Erik has to take a moment to collect himself. "Look," he says as patiently as he can. "He's stable now, right? So you should go and rest. I'll look after him."

Hank hesitates, but he is a logical man and Erik's reasoning has got to him. "You'll call me if anything changes? Anything at all?"

"Right away," Erik agrees readily. Hank is the best doctor in the place and he's not about to deny Charles that just because he has a grudge.

Hank half gets up from his chair. "You won't...do anything to him?"

"Like _what?_" Erik demands. "Molest him in his sleep?"

Hank bristles. "I didn't mean – oh, fuck it." He stands up and makes his way to the door. "Just call me if anything happens."

"Noted," Erik bites out. Hank favours him with one last glare and leaves.

And Erik is suddenly left alone with Charles.

He sits, rather awkwardly, on the seat Hank has vacated. The monitors around him all show different screens, all pumping different things into Charles and making different noises. The press of metal around Erik is comforting.

_Have you been upsetting people again, Erik? _a voice says suddenly in his head. Erik stiffens. It sounds like Charles but as if he is speaking from a long distance, or shouting across an canyon. He glances at Charles's face but it is peaceful in sleep.

"Can you hear me?" he ventures.

_Just about,_ Charles echoes. _I'm not awake though, I don't think. This must be what a coma feels like – it's fascinating!_

Erik just about refrains from rolling his eyes. The man has the whole school worried sick about him and he's getting excited about a coma.

"We're all right," he says. "Everything is okay here. Just rest, Charles."

_Yes,_ Charles mumbles. _I rather need it. I'm terribly...I ache, Erik. Everything just...feels so..._

"Shh." Erik leans over and takes Charles's hand before he can think about it. It feels unnervingly fragile in his tight grasp. "Sleep, Charles."

_You're holding my hand_, Charles says in some wonder._ I couldn't feel anything until that._

Erik squeezes his hand, forcing down the lump in his throat. "I'm here," he says.

_Don't let go. _Charles's voice weakens, flickers in Erik's head. _Don't let go, Erik._

"I won't," Erik promises, and hangs on.

* * *

Charles wakes just under a week later. Jean is looking after him at the time, and reports that his eyes simply opened and he was chatting to her in under a minute as though he had merely woken from a nap. His first request is for a cup of tea.

By the time Erik gets down to the lab, Hank has beaten him to it. When he gets to the open door, he finds that Hank is sitting with Charles, his hands around Charles's and his head bowed, and Charles is resting his cheek against Hank's head, eyes closed and a small smile on his face, as if he is greeting him after a long time apart.

Erik swallows down his emotions, and retreats.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! This entire fic is almost written now, so I should be updating regularly soon. Next part in a few days! Thanks for all the reviews :)


	4. The Phoenix

After waking up, Charles recovers in leaps and bounds, and is out of bed and teaching again within a week, with no apparent permanent damage done to any part of him. Erik, as soon as he thinks Charles is up to a fight, bursts into Charles's study and immediately begins yelling about how stupid Charles was to risk his life for a man who hates him and his entire kind. He expects Charles to fight back, to argue that his life was worth the risk of changing one man's mind or some rubbish like that, but Charles just sits there and smiles. Eventually, when Erik runs out of breath, Charles says gently, "Thanks for worrying about me, Erik."

Charles has, Erik thinks furiously, missed the point entirely. As _usual_.

After two weeks, Charles receive a letter from the General himself. He reads it to the whole school. The General thanks him for his rescue and apologises for his 'wrong, childish and hurtful opinions of the mutant population'. He resolves to do better in the future, and to tell the President what the mutants have done for him.

The students of the school burst into applause after Charles has read the letter. The X-Men and most of the ex-Brotherhood join in, including Raven. When Erik stares over at her, flabbergasted, she winks at him.

It says something about Erik that he still suspects the General of harbouring a secret hatred for mutants even after the letter – some of them did, after all, attack him, even if some of them saved him as well. He waits with bated breath for some reaction, some retaliation, but nothing happens.

Sometimes, these days, he starts to doubt whether experienced, damaged Erik really does know more of the world than naïve, trusting Charles does.

* * *

Within a couple of months, everything has returned to normal, or as close to normal as it can get in the school. Some members of the Second Brotherhood come to the school seeking forgiveness, and get it. The school is full to bursting with students, and yet somehow there is at least a new one each week. Some of the younger ones don't even recognise Erik, and are apparently entirely unable to reconcile the idea of the evil Magneto with the man who sometimes leads their control classes and lectures them when they let their powers overcome themselves. Charles reports this to Erik with no small amount of glee, and receives an eye-roll in answer.

Erik and Wolverine finish the school defences with little more than a few nasty comments thrown here and there, and at the end of it they share a cigar in the knowledge of a job well done. The cigar is still disgusting, but Erik relishes it anyway. Raven starts a gymnastics class that immediately becomes everyone's favourite class and Erik teaches them some self-defence moves. His application to start a class in firearms is flat-out rejected by Charles, but he is allowed to start some clay-pigeon shooting which gets popular amongst the frustrated adolescent teens in no time at all. If they sometimes shoot at each other rather than the clay pigeons, well, no harm done, Erik figures – no need for Charles to know.

Hank and Erik finish improving Cerebro, and although Hank thaws somewhat by the end of it, he is nowhere near as polite as he was at the beginning of their task. He treats Erik with more suspicion rather than less the more he gets involved in the school, clearly expecting Erik to abandon them all without the slightest notice. Unfortunately for him, it just makes Erik determined to stay that much more. He has always been contrary.

But even with Hank's hostility, Erik can't bring himself to entirely hate his time at the school. By the end of six months at the place, he is so ensnared he can't imagine a life outside it, which of course he says to no one. He even thinks he might be getting used to the idea of Charles and Hank being together – Charles does seem entirely happy with Hank and it is apparently difficult for Erik to deny Charles something that makes him happy. So he suffers in silence but sometimes, just sometimes, it doesn't feel like suffering at all.

Then a proposition comes from Charles which ruins everything.

* * *

One evening, during one of their weekly chess games, Charles, who has been quiet for the whole thing, stirs and says, "I've been asked to enlist your help in something."

Erik glances up at him. "Asked by who?"

"Jean," Charles says.

Erik looks up properly. Charles sighs and sits back. "We're getting to the point in Jean's course where she needs to set some rules between herself and Phoenix. She told me she would like your help with this."

Charles's tone is a shade confused and Erik can understand why. After all, he's not a great one to talk to about restraint. "Is she mad?" he asks, bemused.

Charles forbears to comment, which says something in itself. "She believes you have more of an idea of what will be good for her and the Phoenix than I do."

Now his tone is definitely grudging. Erik sits away from the game and takes a sip of whiskey. "Perhaps I do."

Charles's expression sharpens. "Oh really?"

Erik half-smiles. He puts the glass back on the table. "Charles, you're a control freak. You want to trap the Phoenix because it is dangerous, lock it away."

"And what, you want it to run wild and destroy everything?" Charles retorts. "Destroy Jean?"

Erik shakes his head. "I'm not talking about one personality dominating the other, Charles. I'm talking about a meeting of minds."

Charles snorts. "That would require a willingness to negotiate. The Phoenix doesn't negotiate. It just takes. It is wild and full of rage. You can't make anything out of that."

"Oh, I don't know," Erik disagrees. "Wouldn't you say that was what I was once? _Wild and full of rage_?"

Charles pauses.

"You made something out of me, Charles," Erik says. He takes a sip of whiskey to chase down the lump in his throat. "I have no doubt you can do the same with the Phoenix."

Charles stares at Erik as though he has just told him the last digit of pi, mouth open and all arguments lost. Then, slowly, he closes it and smiles instead. "Will you come to the sessions?" he asks. "I have a feeling you'll be indispensable."

Erik knows he should say no, that working closely with Charles on something will only lead to trouble.

"All right," he says.

* * *

A couple of weeks later, Erik is summoned away from some early evening clay pigeon shooting, where Scott is merrily shooting down each disc with his laser vision as it flies at him, by Charles's voice in his head.

_Erik? Could you come down to the lab? Jean and I are ready to wake up the Phoenix._

Ever since he spoke to Erik when he was in a coma, Charles has deemed it suddenly okay to dip into Erik's thoughts whenever he feels like it. Erik thinks he should probably be more annoyed about this than he is. Instead it makes him feel comfortable, like putting on an old jacket that he had forgotten he owned.

Grudgingly, he sends a wave of assent and leaves Scott in charge of the lesson, making his way down to the labs.

Erik doesn't like the labs anymore. Waking up in them himself had been fine, but spending hours watching over an unconscious Charles in them has left him with a deep hatred of the place. Still, he has never backed down from a challenge, so he walks through the old corridors as casually as he can.

He finds Charles and Jean in one of the many lab rooms, Jean lying on one of the metal tables and Charles sitting above her, two hands to either side of her head. She is semi-conscious but still has enough awareness to raise a hand in greeting when Erik walks in. Erik stands beside her, notices the deep bags under her eyes and the lines around her mouth. She smiles at him, as gently as she did that day when the others flew off in a jet and she offered him a cup of tea.

"Hey," she says softly.

It has never been easy for Erik to love, or to be moved to compassion, but he is moved now. He takes her hand gently. "Hello," he replies. "I'm here."

"Cool," she whispers. Her eyelids flutter.

Charles glances up at Erik but talks to Jean. "Okay, Jean," he says, "I'm going to send you to sleep and bring the Phoenix out. Don't worry, I've got you. Are you ready?"

"Ready," she mumbles.

Charles concentrates and Jean falls asleep. He glances up at Erik. "This could be dangerous," he says warningly.

Erik grins his old manic grin. "Let's hope so."

Charles rolls his eyes and focuses on Jean again. For a moment nothing happens, then Jean grimaces and her eyes fly open. But it's not Jean, Erik realises, who he is looking at.

The next thing he knows, the creature has sat up and flung out an arm, and Erik is thrown back to the other side of the room as easily as if he is a crumpled up ball of paper. His back hits the opposite wall, Charles shouts "_Stop it!_" and everything goes black for a moment.

When his vision clears, he can see that Charles is in front of him, reaching down from his chair to touch the side of Erik's face. "Are you all right?" he asks, and his voice is panicky. "Did you hit your head?"

Erik ignores him and looks around his shoulder to where Jean – no, not Jean anymore – to where the _Phoenix_ is sitting, bolt upright on the medical table and glaring at him through a tumble of red hair. He scrambles to his feet, disregarding Charles's half-mumbled protests that he should stay where he is, and approaches the Phoenix.

"You're not going to win any friends doing that sort of thing," he says bluntly.

The Phoenix hisses at him. "You are not my _friends._"

"We want to be," Charles says gently from behind Erik. "We want to make peace with you."

"Peace?" The Phoenix stares at him. "You were trying to _cage me._ You think I didn't feel it? You want rid of me!"

"That's not true," Charles says, still calm. "We want to help you."

"_There's nothing wrong with me!_" the Phoenix shrieks and Charles winces, clapping a hand to his head as though she has just done something inside it.

Erik loses his already very short temper. He grabs hold of the creature, shakes it as it snarls at him. "Listen up," he snaps. "I know what you are. I know exactly what you are. You're a survivor. You'd fight anything that would try to hold you back. I know what that's like."

The Phoenix stares into him, no doubt longing to burn its way through Erik's thoughts, but Erik holds strong. "But here's the deal," he continues fiercely. "Either you work with us and we ensure there's an equal balance between you and Jean, or you fight us and I let Charles go ahead and cage you. You're a survivor. You work out which is the better option."

The Phoenix narrows its eyes. "You want me to trust you," it growls. "I don't know anything about you."

Erik masters himself. "Then look," he says.

Charles shifts nervously behind him. "Erik," he murmurs.

"It's fine," Erik says, adding in a mental whisper _this will work, Charles._

Charles makes no reply, but Erik can still sense his nervousness. He tries to push it away and focuses back on the Phoenix. The Phoenix sits up, staring at him, tilting its head slowly from side to side and then he can feel a wave of heat spreading through his entire body. He blinks against the sensation, prickling like an electric shock across his skin, and in a moment it is gone.

He stares at the Phoenix. The Phoenix watches him closely, as if it is reading its way through Erik's past like flicking through a book. Then it says, "You still love him."

Erik's heart fails him. He can't speak.

The Phoenix examines him for a moment more, and then looks away to the silently watching Charles. "All right," it says. "I'll work with you."

Charles breathes out a mental sigh of relief in Erik's head and says, "This will be the best thing for both of you," he says. "I'll make sure of it, I promise."

"I don't trust you," The Phoenix says flatly. It turns bright eyes on Erik. "I trust _him_ though."

"And I trust Charles," Erik retorts, trying not to lose his temper.

The Phoenix examines him again, then nods once, shortly. Charles smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "We'll talk," he says. "I'll set up a conversation between you and Jean. I won't try to cage you again, Phoenix. I promise."

The Phoenix stares at Charles for a long moment, and Charles stares right back. Erik is aware, uncomfortably, that they are likely having a telepathic conversation without him, but when the Phoenix breaks the gaze, it merely nods before lying back down on the table and closing its eyes.

Charles glances over to Erik. "I'm bringing Jean back for now," he says. "Tomorrow, when they're both rested, I'll start the negotiations. Will you help?"

"Of course," Erik says without hesitation.

Charles smiles softly. "Of course," he echoes.

* * *

They wake up a very tired, confused Jean and lead her back to her room together, where she falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillows. Erik and Charles leave her be and walk back down the mostly silent corridors together. It is late now, and the corridors are bathed in a patchwork of moonlight and darkness.

"Well done," Charles says, sounding more relieved than patronising. "That was always going to be the most difficult bit, but I think the Phoenix took a liking to you."

Erik half shrugs, feeling awkward. "It saw bits of itself in me," he said. "It was only ever going to listen to sense from someone like it."

"Yes," Charles murmurs. "I suppose so."

Erik thinks about all the aspects in his past that the Phoenix must have seen – Shaw, his tortured childhood, his dead mother, all those people he had killed, all that rage and despair he had felt, and yet the only thing it had said was _You still love him._ Why had Erik's love for Charles been the most important part to the Phoenix?

"Erik," Charles says hesitantly and Erik knows, suddenly, that they are thinking the same thing. "About what the Phoenix said – "

"Don't," Erik interrupts sharply, screeching to a halt in the middle of the corridor. He turns to Charles and hears himself saying, more gently, "Please don't."

Charles frowns but then swallows, like he's forcing his words back down his throat, and nods. "Okay."

Erik nods too, trying to ignore the prickling pain behind his eyelids. "It's getting late," he says. "I'd better..."

"Yes," Charles says. "Yes, of course."

Erik turns to walk down the corridor on his own, but he has only taken three steps before Charles calling his name makes him turn back around. "Yes?"

Charles's face is half in shadow, the other half silver in moonlight, and Erik can see him frown again, in quick agony. "Me too," he says.

His voice is rough, like he struggled to keep back the words but they came out anyway.

Erik doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what he _can_ say.

He walks away instead.

* * *

There is a familiar blue and red vision sitting outside his bedroom door when he finally reaches it. Erik can't say he hasn't been expecting this, so he merely says, "Hello Raven."

Raven looks up from where she has been burying her face inside her crossed arms. She has been crying, Erik can tell from the glimmer of moisture on her cheeks, but she seems to have stopped for now. "I really need a drink," she informs him hoarsely.

Erik opens the door and reaches a hand down to her. "I have whiskey," he offers.

She takes his hand, letting him pull her up, and flashes him a small smile, and they go into the room together.

Erik on his return, and at Charles's behest, had been given a much larger room than the one he had had the first time they came to the mansion and he has struggled to fill it. He has always been constantly on the move, never staying anywhere for very long, and so he has very little in the way of personal possessions. He wouldn't even know what to buy. So he has scattered his stuff all over the room in an attempt to make it seem fuller, which has only resulted in making it appear even more bare than it was when it was empty. It is not a comfortable room to be in.

Raven doesn't appear to care though. She collapses into a chair by the fireplace. Erik goes to the side and pours two extremely large whiskeys. They both need it.

Raven says, when he turns around, "I'm going to have to leave."

Erik feels a stronger immediate panic than he thought he would. "You can't," he says instinctively, then hastens to think up reasons why she shouldn't other than _you can't leave me._ "You've settled here."

Raven shrugs. Erik feels a pang of irritation. "So you're going to take the coward's way out," he snaps. "That's not like you. You're better than that."

Raven glances sharply up at him. "You don't know what you're talking about," she hisses.

"Yes," Erik retorts. "I do."

Raven examines his face for a moment, then sits back, all fury gone. Erik leans over, gives her one of the whiskeys, and settles in the opposite chair with his own.

"You want me to list the reasons, I'll list them," he says. Raven is staring at her knees again, but he knows she is listening. "You can be yourself here. Entirely yourself and no one minds – in fact they celebrate it. You can be at peace here. You can make a difference here. You've taught your gym classes, you've even helped the ridiculous X-Men on a ridiculous mission. You have made a life here, Raven, one that is probably better than any you could find somewhere else. And you know this."

Raven nods to her knees. She takes a shaky sip of whiskey and sits up, looking Erik in the face. "I love him," she says bluntly. "He has the perfect life and being with me would only muck it up for him, but I love him all the same. I know you understand that."

Erik cannot deny this. He remembers, briefly, the moment that they all met Hank, in the CIA base. He remembers Charles accidentally outing him to his CIA boss, and how Hank had leapt up and grabbed onto the dangling plane with his mutant feet. He remembers Raven walking up to him, smiling in that golden way of hers and saying to Hank, "You're amazing." He remembers it vividly, as if it were only yesterday. But they are all such different people now.

"A perfect person is with another perfect person," he says, half to himself. "They're ideal. Charles encourages Hank in his ideas and helps him, and Hank supports Charles with anything he needs. Anything at all. He doesn't argue with him, doesn't fight him. He gives him exactly what he wants. He'll sacrifice anything for Charles." Erik looks down into his whiskey and takes a sip. "Which is more than I'll do."

Oddly, Raven seems more encouraged by Erik's woes than defeated by them. "They have such a similar mindset," she says. "They talk about things I can't even pronounce. And they have all this history between them, they mention places they went and people they met years ago, and I don't know what they're talking about. I just sit there and feel...lost."

Erik scratches the back of his head. He agrees entirely.

"I've tried," Raven says, and now she just sounds weary. "All the years I've been here, I've tried to move on. Sometimes you think its getting better, that you're getting over it, and then something happens to bring it all back. All the joy and all the pain."

Erik, with a lurch in his stomach, remembers how a few days ago he had been convincing himself that he was fine with Hank and Charles. And then Charles had grudgingly asked for his help, and the Phoenix had looked into his mind and said _You still love him, _and now it seems like Erik is back at the beginning again.

He glances over at Raven rubbing her eyes with her hand and gives up on his pride. He swallows down the last of his whiskey, gets off his seat and comes to kneel beside her. "Don't go," he says. "I need you here. I need someone lost like me."

Raven smiles gently down at him. "I've had eight years of this, Erik. I can't make any promises."

Erik knows what she is talking about. He has had the same urge many times, the urge to pack up his meagre possessions and just leave, just cross the threshold of the school and soar into the sky and be away. He could leave before Charles realised it, he knows he could. He could be gone. He could go somewhere where no one has ever heard of Magneto, where no one has ever seen his face. It would be easier than here, but it would also be more difficult as well.

Because the school _is_ a good place, much as Erik is loathe to admit it. The Brotherhood and the X-Men working together is a good thing, although it will never cease to unnerve him. They are creating a necessary haven for mutants. It's a haven that can sometimes lull you into forgetting the outside world, but maybe that's a good thing. At least, maybe it's a good thing for Erik. The outside world has demanded a lot of him, and he's not quite ready to rejoin it just yet.

"Stay," he quietly begs Raven. Raven strokes a blue hand down the back of his head but says nothing.

* * *

Charles the next day is a picture of awkwardness, so much so that the sight of him actually calms Erik's own nervousness a bit.

"I would understand," Charles says stiltedly after breakfast, when everyone has gone their separate ways, "If you no longer wanted to be involved with Jean and the Phoenix – "

"I do," Erik interrupts clumsily. "I mean, if you would let me."

Charles stares at him. "Of course I'd let you," he says, but there is a sense of reluctance in his voice, as though, if he had his way, he would have Erik as far out of the loop as possible. As though he suspects Erik of some ulterior motive. It puts Erik immediately on the defensive.

"I know," he continues firmly. "Only I promised Jean I'd help."

Charles relaxes a fraction. "Of course," he repeats. "No, of course, I was being silly."

His voice is far lighter, more relaxed. Erik decides not to comment. "So," he says instead. "Shall we get started?"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the slightly later update guys! Hope you enjoyed and thank you for all the love and reviews!**


	5. The Breaking

**A/N: I haven't updated for so long because I am a Very Bad Person. The story has all been written so it won't end up unfinished, I swear! As a favour, here is a nice long chapter...and warning...it gets porn-tastic. Hell yeeeeeeah.**

* * *

The next few weeks are exhausting for all involved. Charles can only undergo about four hours of connecting one personality with another in the same brain and keeping that connection while they all bicker. At the beginning, Jean gets exhausted even before that, but as time passes she is able to keep going for longer stretches of time. Erik gets used to hearing both Jean's and the Phoenix's voice coming out of Jean's mouth and often chips in with his opinion on whatever it is they are talking about. It doesn't always go peaceably – one time Charles and the Phoenix have a roaring argument about melding Jean's natural temperament with the Phoenix's endless pool of rage – something the Phoenix is absolutely for and something Charles can't help but be reluctant about on Jean's behalf. In the end it takes Erik persuading him, and then Jean, before he will allow it. They do it in stages, Charles fearing a slip at any moment, but he is so careful that it actually goes very well. They work on every aspect of Jean and then every aspect of the Phoenix, and the days slide by.

Erik is so busy with the Phoenix that he has to give up the rest of his projects for the time being, but he makes sure to see Raven as much as he can. She brightens up during the passing weeks, mostly because Hank is at more of a loose end in Charles's absence and happily accepts her offers of help on some adjustments he is doing to the X-Men jet. Erik dreads what she will feel when their work with the Phoenix is over, but he can't bring himself to say anything to Raven, because he is doing the same thing.

Erik and Charles have started up their old routine. When Jean is exhausted and goes to bed, they play a few games of chess and drink Martinis and argue about anything from literature to politics. By tacit agreement, neither of them goes near the issue of mutant rights, though it lurks underneath almost everything they do talk about. It is almost like the old days, with Erik taking the extreme view on something and Charles taking the liberal view, the two of them battling in words as much as they do in chess, and often at the same time. It is almost like the old days...except that Charles is in a wheelchair and Erik is a murderer and the house is full of people and when the night is over, Charles goes to bed with Hank and Erik goes to bed alone.

That's always the worst bit. Erik spends the evening forgetting everything else except Charles, and he is only reminded of it when they part ways. He always goes to bed with a bitter taste in his mouth.

* * *

There are moments when he loves his life and moments when he hates it. One evening, an evening when they sit next to each other at dinner, Charles gets a little drunk and giggly, and spends the meal chatting nineteen to the dozen to anyone who will listen to him. Erik sits quietly next to him and watches Charles out of the corner of his eye, notes the light that shines in his eyes when he smiles, examines the folds and curls of his chestnut hair, tries to ignore the way their hands rest barely a finger's length apart on the table. Charles's arm jogs warmly against Erik's when he gestures and when Erik turns his head to look at him properly, Charles smiles so broadly at him that it is all Erik can do not to grab hold of his shoulders and kiss him right there and then.

Those are the moments when he loves his life. There are moments when he does not. One morning, Erik wakes up very early, way earlier than anyone else, and decides to go for a jog while it is relatively cool outside. When he returns, he finds a distinctly dishevelled Charles wheeling his way as quietly as he can out of the room he shares with Hank. When he hears Erik, he glances up and smiles at him, but it is a different smile, a sort of dreamy, unfocused smile. Erik takes in his rumpled, badly buttoned shirt, the flush in his cheeks and the dark bruise blooming on his neck and makes his own conclusions. By the time Charles's smile starts to falter, gleaning a little of Erik's thoughts, Erik has already turned on his heel and is striding down the corridor as fast as he can.

So there are moments of happiness and moments of grief. In many ways, the episode with Phoenix is making them closer. In other ways, it is making the whole situation worse. It says something about Erik's state of mind that he wouldn't change it for the world.

* * *

"All right," Charles says several weeks later, his voice laced with weariness. "Jean, Phoenix, this is the last bit. I'm going to complete the final merge. After this, if I've done it correctly, both of you should be one person. What I mean by that is you shouldn't be able to tell the difference between Jean or the Phoenix because this difference shouldn't even exist. You will be completely intertwined with each other. Ready?"

"Ready," says Jean in Jean's voice.

"Ready," says Jean in the Phoenix's voice.

Charles glances up at Erik. Erik nods, letting him know that he is there. Charles takes a deep breath and concentrates.

Nothing happens on the outside. Jean's face flickers from emotion to emotion, eyes firmly closed, body straight as an arrow on the metal bed. Charles's eyes are distant, focused entirely on the task in hand.

Then, abruptly, Jean gasps and Charles lets out his breath like he's just finished a particularly tricky manoeuvre. Jean opens her eyes.

"Jean?" Erik asks nervously. They look like Jean's eyes, but there is a glint to them that wasn't there before.

Jean smiles, a more self-assured smile than Jean has ever worn before, but far from the natural cockiness of the Phoenix's smile. "Both," she says. Her voice is deeper than Jean's but lighter than the Phoenix's. "Both, I think."

"Both," Charles affirms. He looks tired but happy. "I think that's what they call that a complete success."

Erik sags with relief. He didn't even realise he was tense until that moment. "Are you all right?" he asks Jean.

Jean sits up slowly. "I feel...good," she says. She smiles. "I feel...right."

"Well, I for one," Charles puts in, rubbing his head, "Should bloody well hope so."

Jean smiles down at him, a suddenly sparkling smile, then throws her arms around Charles's neck with all the carelessness of the teenager that Erik keeps forgetting she actually is. "Thanks, Prof," she says into Charles's shoulder, and Charles half laughs and pats her on the back.

"I'd say it was a pleasure," he says, "But my headache disagrees. Excuse me, both, I'm going to go and hunt down some aspirin."

He wheels expertly out of the room. Erik watches him, then turns his attention to Jean, who is examining him with sharp eyes.

"So," Erik says, "Do I call you Jean or Phoenix?"

"Both," Jean replies. Her eyes are still sparkling. "Either."

Erik nods, feeling stiff in the face of her new buoyancy. He has never been react well to true happiness. He's never really felt it.

Jean/Phoenix tilts her head, as if gleaning a little of his thoughts. Perhaps she is, Erik remembers – she is a strong telepath after all. Stronger, now she is in control of herself.

"Do you know," Jean/Phoenix says, "Why the Phoenix really joined with Jean?"

Erik blinks. "Because I threatened her."

Jean/Phoenix shakes her head. "It wasn't because of the threat of the Professor caging it forever. It wasn't _scared_. It was lonely."

Erik feels his breath catch, though he is not sure why. "Lonely."

Jean/Phoenix nods. "Jean was as well, though she never told you." She shrugs. "It's lonely being split in half. The Phoenix felt things more keenly than Jean – all emotions – rage, desire...and loneliness. It desperately wanted to be joined with its other half." Jean/Phoenix looks sharply at Erik. "I'm sure you know what that's like."

Erik feels suddenly, desperately unbalanced but yet everything starts to make sense. He stares at her, mind suddenly whirring. "When the Phoenix said, that first day..."

"_You still love him._" Jean/Phoenix cuts across him. "Yes, that was the most important thing to the Phoenix. It was searching for some proof that you – almost as wild and crazed with rage as it – could coexist with someone completely different to yourself. And not only coexist, but actually crave them. The Phoenix wanted to to be sure that it could get on with Jean in the way that you and it hoped. It found it. So it agreed to the merge."

Erik stares at Jean/Phoenix, and he can no longer deny that his heart is racing, that he is starting to panic. He tries to explain, to tell her how important Charles is to him, how much Charles has helped him and challenged him and cared for him in all the years they've known one another, but none of it will come out. All he can mumble is, "Charles is..."

Jean/Phoenix nods. "Completely different to yourself. And you love him. You have loved him and you will always love him. That much is clear. You are separate parts of the same mind." She leans over and takes his hand with a gentleness that is almost completely Jean. "It is not right that you should be apart," she says softly.

Erik glares at the hand in his until his vision clears again. "It's more complicated than that," he manages.

Jean/Phoenix smiles, relaxing, and pats his hand. "Isn't it always?" she says.

* * *

Erik catches up with Charles in the living room later that evening, after he has walked Jean/Phoenix to her room for a rest, chatted to Wolverine about the clay pigeon shooting which he has taken over for the last few weeks and checked in on Raven to make sure she is still in the house.

Charles has ensconced himself into the sofa, wheelchair placed nearby as always, and has a Martini in hand. He smiles at Erik with only a little of his earlier weariness still in his face.

"Feeling better?" Erik asks. He'd been feeling awkward up until Charles's smile, remembering what Jean/Phoenix had said to him, but the sight of it has melted all his nervousness away.

Charles, halfway through sipping his Martini, nods. "The aspirin worked a treat. And the Martini is working better."

He grins at Erik, his old cheeky, slightly flirtatious grin, which makes Erik reach for the whiskey bottle. He takes his time pouring it, keeping his back to Charles, controlling himself. When he is sure of himself, he turns and takes his place on the sofa next to Charles.

For a while there is silence while the two drink and listen to the rest of the house winding down, doors slamming shut, shouts of good night echoing through walls. It is now a familiar sound to Erik, this nightly ritual that the whole school seems to have adopted, and he is ashamed to admit he finds it comforting. He likes the house full of people, it feels right somehow, like in the years it was abandoned it had craved such chaos.

He has always liked the thought of family. He has always wanted to be part of one. His experience in families has been sorely lacking. Though he did have the Brotherhood, he remembers suddenly. They were a family. A dysfunctional one, to be sure, but a family all the same. He remembers Toad lurking in outside spaces, attacking flies and jokingly offering them to others. He remembers Sabretooth sharpening his claws and making smart remarks. He remembers how they all bickered and laughed and showed off to each other. They were a family. The Brotherhood was a family. He needs to always remember that – the X-Men aren't the only family he has ever had.

And then he remembers that the Brotherhood are all here, in the mansion. They're behind these wooden doors, still the same people, just in a different place. They're not _gone_. He'll never lose them, not really.

He has spent the whole time at the mansion mourning things, mourning the Brotherhood, the loss of Charles, his lack of purpose. But the Brotherhood is in the house and Charles is sitting right beside him. Maybe at some point he'll find a purpose again as well.

Charles breaks their contemplative silence. "I want to thank you, Erik," he says seriously. He looks over at Erik, who glances back, slightly uncomprehending. Charles elaborates. "If it wasn't for you telling me otherwise, I would have just caged up the Phoenix as something dangerous. Then God knows what would have happened."

Erik's spine crawls, though he is not sure why. "I suspect it wouldn't have ended well," he finds himself saying.

Charles grins at him from across the sofa, suddenly a few inches closer to Erik. "I suspect the same." He relaxes into the sofa and sips his Martini. "What do you think she'll be like? This Jean/Phoenix creation."

"Probably just Jean with more of a temper and an actual spine," Erik retorts. He wonders if this will now make Jean his favourite X-Man other than Charles, then notices that the man in question has definitely shifted closer to him on the sofa than he was before. He remembers the incident on the bench under the silver birches and tries to resist the urge to leap off the sofa and run out of the room.

Charles, apparently unaware of Erik's distress, huffs a laugh into his drink. "I quite liked the Phoenix in the end," he confesses. "I don't know why. It was...compelling."

"Of course it was." Erik downs the last of his whiskey, feeling it burn down his throat. Charles's proximity makes him edgy, makes the blood in his veins race. "Anything like the Phoenix is," he continues. He looks over at Charles to find him staring at him, eyes intent. "It embodies that part of us that just wants to...break free." He notices Charles frown in a strange way, so he elaborates. "The part that wants to take the bad choice and run with it, just to see what would happen. It's the part that wonders if maybe doing the wrong thing could lead to good things. It's the part that just wants to grab hold of the opportunity because it may never come again, and if it never comes again, life might not be worth li – "

Which is when Charles leans forward and kisses him.

It is not a shy kiss, or a soft kiss, or a nervous kiss. It is a kiss with clear intent. Before Erik can get a grasp on what is happening, Charles has licked his way into Erik's mouth and is giving him the deepest, filthiest snog of Erik's life. Erik is dimly aware that he should be pulling away rather than leaning in closer, but then Charles grabs hold of him, hands reaching around his back and grasping his shirt, and suddenly they are chest to chest, closer than they've been in years, and Erik forgets how to think completely. He reaches for any part of Charles that he can – his shirt collar, his face, his hair – and kisses back fiercely.

At some point he realises that Charles is pushing at him, rather than pulling him, and almost pulls away, wondering if Charles has come to his senses and is trying to get free, but then he realises that Charles is trying to push him _down_, onto the sofa. He goes willingly, shuffling down so that he is lying on the sofa, and Charles lifts himself over Erik so that he is lying on top of him, and suddenly they are nose to nose.

"Charles," Erik starts, wondering if the man is going to have second thoughts, but then Charles leans down and they are kissing again, more slowly but just as heatedly, until Erik is so aroused he can barely tell where he is anymore. All that is in the world is Charles, and his mouth, and his body against Erik's. He lets Charles run his hands all over his chest, sometimes gripping his shirt, sometimes smoothing it down, and digs his hands into Charles's hair, the flutter of Charles's pulse in his neck beating against Erik's wrist.

It has been years, Erik thinks, _years_.

Charles lets his hands run lower down Erik's body, palms at Erik's clothed cock and Erik gasps in shock into his mouth. He wasn't sure where this was going, but he didn't imagine it would be _there._

Charles breaks off the kiss slowly, pressing his forehead into Erik's. "Is this okay?" he asks. His voice is rough and breathless, like he's been running a long distance to get to this moment with Erik, and it twists Erik's mind.

"Yes," he says, and tilts his face, capturing Charles's lips again, and Charles breathes into the kiss, pressing down against Erik as Erik arches up to meet him. He feels Charles's hands resume their work on his cock, one hand unbuckling Erik's trousers, and pushes into the touch with a groan.

Charles breaks the kiss again, eyes mischievous, then kisses Erik's neck swiftly and manoeuvres himself down Erik's body. It is clumsy and difficult because he can't push with his legs, but he eventually settles himself over Erik's cock and smirks up at the watching Erik. Erik tries to say "Charles..." warningly, but it comes out as a stuttered gasp, and Charles only grins again before reaching into Erik's trousers to pull out his cock.

Erik collapses against the sofa, has only enough time to wonder what the hell he is playing at to the ceiling, before Charles's fingers on his cock are suddenly replaced by his mouth and Erik hears himself yelp, "Oh _shit_," and tries to resist thrusting his hips up.

Charles's cock-sucking is as filthy and delicious as his kissing, all heat and wetness, plunging down and fast before slowing, sucking hard at Erik until he swears, and then licking him as if in apology, his tongue swirling around the head while Erik whimpers. Erik opens his mouth to tell Charles to stop be a fucking tease, but then he looks down and the sight of Charles with his pink lips stretched around Erik's cock, his eyes dark, robs Erik of his speech completely. Then Charles sucks hard again and it's all too much, all these years of wanting and now _having_ – Erik's vision goes white and he comes hard, hips snapping up out of his control and not one word of warning for Charles on his lips.

For a moment, there is only ecstasy and heat, and then Erik feels his body slump into the sofa cushions and his consciousness starts to filter back into his brain. Charles shifts below him, but by the time Erik has instructed himself to glance down, Charles has moved up so they are face to face, and is kissing Erik again. Erik can taste himself on Charles's tongue, which is in equal measures weird and arousing. He languidly reaches for Charles's hips, pushing him against Erik, and Charles groans.

Erik breaks the kiss and takes in the sight of Charles. The man is still desperately aroused, bright blue eyes darkened, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. Erik threads one hand through Charles's hair, tugging him down for another kiss, then reaches for Charles's cock with the other hand. His belt is half undone, possibly by Charles while he was sucking Erik off, and it only takes a thread of Erik's power to undo it properly.

Charles murmurs in approval. Erik slides his hand inside Charles's pants, grasping hold of him, and Charles whimpers and presses a little closer. It doesn't take long, not when Charles is so desperately aroused and Erik is so determined not to be the only one warmly sated. Soon Charles's breath is stuttering against Erik's mouth and his kisses turn sloppy, and then when Erik bites onto Charles's bottom lip with sharp teeth, Charles gasps and comes hard across Erik's knuckles, shuddering against him.

There is silence.

Charles slumps. Erik extricates his hand and wipes it carelessly on the side of his trousers, but he can't summon up the energy to part from Charles or clean himself up. It's sticky and uncomfortable, but it's also close. He likes the feeling of Charles's skin against his. It's been so long...

Charles moves eventually, but only to burrow his face into Erik's neck with a contented sigh. Erik reaches an arm around Charles's back, feels him breathe against him. "Are you all right?" he asks. The position can hardly be comfortable, especially for Charles with his limited mobility, but Charles merely hums an affirmative, and continues to breathe into his neck.

Erik stares up at the ceiling. He feels lazy and satisfied, but also more than that – it's like a large part of him has been missing for a long time and now that he is here with Charles it has come back to him, something has clicked back into that gap inside him.

He thinks about Jean/Phoenix saying _You are separate parts of the same mind. _Maybe she's right, Erik thinks drowsily.

"I suspect she probably is," Charles says aloud, into Erik's neck.

Erik glances down at him. "Are you reading my mind?"

Charles sits up, smiling. "Sorry." His cheeks are still flushed, eyes bright, and though Erik wants to snap at him, he can't bring himself to. He kisses Charles instead.

_Positive reinforcement, Erik, _Charles chides in Erik's head, but he kisses him back readily. They kiss until Erik starts feeling his heart start to pound, the blood rushing around him. He breaks away from Charles dizzily.

"You're getting me hot and bothered again," he scolds.

Charles huffs out a laugh, but seems happy to nestle his head against Erik's shoulder instead. Erik stares up at the ceiling, trying to calm himself down, but instead he can sense the contentment that he was feeling start to spiral into worry.

"Charles," he says haltingly. He doesn't want to burst their happy bubble but he has never been one for not talking about what is on his mind. "About Hank..."

He tries to continue, but the mention of Hank's name sends a startling burst of guilt running through him.

Charles raises his head again, his expression sharpening. "This is my fault, not yours," he says. "I don't want you to take on any blame."

There is a sudden lump in Erik's throat. "I've ruined this for you," he says. "I knew I would."

Charles shakes his head. "You haven't ruined anything," he says. "Erik..."

"You're perfect for each other," Erik snaps. "You know that. He'd do anything you asked."

"That's not..." Charles hesitates. "That's not always a good thing. Erik, you – "

"No." Erik pushes Charles back, making him scramble into a sitting position, and then he sits up himself and starts buttoning his trousers back up. He feels irritated, at Charles, at himself, at this whole situation. "You don't get it," he says impatiently. "I've ruined everything else, I can't ruin this."

He hears Charles shuffling, also sorting himself out, but when he speaks, his voice is determined. "You don't know anything about me and Hank," he says, "You can't just decide you're ruining something perfect, Erik, _you _are perf – "

"_I'm no good for you!_" Erik shouts.

Charles blinks. Erik stands up, unwilling to leave, but too nervy to stay. Why does he keep making such huge mistakes? Why can't he sort himself out? His life has just been chaos from start to finish, he can't –

"You really think so little of yourself," Charles says. Erik glances over at him. "You do, don't you. You lost the Brotherhood and that you think that makes you unworthy of anything. All you've ever known is rage and revenge, and now you've lost that, you don't know what you are. You think you're useless."

The lump in Erik's throat rises again; he forces it down. "Stop it," he snarls.

Charles sits forward, eyes intent. "You need to see what you've done here," he says. "The difference you've made – how you've helped – "

"I've helped no one," Erik retorts. "I've never helped anyone in my life and I certainly haven't helped you. For God's sake, Charles."

And then he leaves before he can make a bigger mess of things.

* * *

As fate would have it, as he is rushing back to his room, he meets the one person he really doesn't want to.

"Oh, hey Erik," Hank says, pushing his glasses up his nose. He smiles in all honesty, looking cheerful and bright. "I've just been looking over the old plans for Cerebro, I reckoned if we changed a few things, we could spread Charles's reach even further. It would be great if we could find more students abroad. Interested?"

Erik stares at him.

"What?" stumbles Hank. "I mean, if you're too busy, we could – "

Erik pushes past him, leaving Hank in the dust, and doesn't look back until he has reached his room and is safely locking and bolting the door.

He leans on the door, pressing his face against the wood, and says, "Shit."

And then, "Shit, shit, _shit_," and the next thing he knows he is dragging his old suitcase from under his bed and packing it as hurriedly as he can.


	6. The Epiphany

It's imperative that he gets out of the house before Charles catches up with him, but he still gives himself time to knock on Raven's door.

She opens it, eyes bleary and a complaint on the tip of her tongue, but one look at the suitcase in his hand makes her freeze. She stares at Erik with wide eyes. "You're not," she says.

"I've been so stupid," Erik replies. Somehow saying it aloud makes it worse. "I've been so stupid, Raven."

Raven holds out a hand, as if she can stop him by merely clinging on to him. "That doesn't mean you have to run away," she says. "Erik, you said yourself, running away is cowardly."

Erik half laughs, tasting bitterness. "Well, I've been cowardly in many other respects today, I might as well finish the job."

Raven meets his gaze. She clearly wants to ask him what has happened, but she holds her tongue. "I could come with you," she offers instead. "It could be like the old days, we could – "

"Don't," Erik interrupts. "Stay here. If only because Hank might need you to be there for him soon. Maybe." He's not sure how much Charles will tell Hank, if anything. Perhaps Erik leaving will sort things out between them. He can only hope.

Raven's mouth trembles, but she doesn't argue. She takes his hand gently, stares down at it as if remembering something. "Those early days, when we ran away with each other," she says softly. "Who'd have ever thought we'd end up like this?"

Erik leans down on instinct and kisses her forehead. "I've got to go," he says.

"Yeah." Raven scrubs away sudden tears on her cheeks. "Okay. Be safe."

Erik wants to say he'll see her soon, but actually he's not sure if he'll ever see her again. He gives her another kiss on the forehead instead.

Then he picks up his suitcase and walks away.

* * *

He takes one of the X-Men's beaten up old cars, because he's not sure he has the mental energy to fly, and anyway he generally needs his full Magneto clothing to achieve it – he doesn't have enough metal on him at the moment.

He drives out of the school as fast as he can go, and no one tries to stop him. At one point, while zooming down a dark empty lane, he thinks he hears Charles's voice whisper _Erik_ in his head, but it could be his imagination. Whatever it is, he gives it no reply.

He drives and drives, and around him the dawn breaks.

* * *

He stops at a motel when the daylight really hits, sleeps until evening, then drives through the night to another motel. He has a lot of funds in various offshore accounts from the days when he was Magneto, so money isn't a problem. He has no plan, but that's not really a problem either – there have been many times in his life when he has not had a plan. At the moment, the only thing he wants to do is to get as far away from the school – and people in general – as possible.

He thinks about putting the helmet back on, to ensure that Charles can't find him, but by the time he has thought about it, he figures Charles could have easily found him and tried to talk to him. The fact that he didn't means that he either isn't looking for Erik or he is leaving him alone. Plus, perhaps it will do good for Charles to see how far Erik is running away. Perhaps it will convince him that Erik will never return to the mansion. Because he won't. That's all over now.

He sleeps by day and drives by night, and tries not to think about what he is casting away.

* * *

He is waylaid for a few days by exhaustion – something that the old Magneto would never have a problem with, but the new Erik, overwhelmed with indecision and depression, clearly does. He spends a few days in the same motel, curled up in bed.

When, on the third day, there is a knock on his door, he assumes it is the motel owner coming to demand some more money, and as a result opens the door in a very bad humour.

It is not the motel owner. It is Hank.

Erik stares at him.

Hank pushes his glasses up his nose and smiles his trademark nervous smile. "Can I come in?" he asks.

Erik regains his powers of movement, and with it his wariness. He glances past Hank for Charles, but there is no one else around. "Depends," he ventures. "Are you going to punch me?"

Hank's smile sharpens. "Oh, I think we've hurt each other enough, don't you?"

Erik looks sidelong at Hank, but Hank's face stays open and honest. Not for the first time, Erik wishes he had Charles's powers of mind-reading. He takes a chance instead. "All right," he says. He opens the door wider. "But no turning blue, I'm not paying for a room you've trashed."

Hank says nothing, merely twitches his glasses on his nose again and steps into the room. It's a mess, but he wisely doesn't comment.

Erik takes a moment to wonder what the hell he is doing, then turns into the room himself and closes the door. "So why are you here, if it's not to punch me?"

Hank finishes his surveillance of the room and turns around to face Erik. "I'm here to talk some sense into you," he says straightforwardly.

Erik can't help but raise an eyebrow in reply. "Talk some sense into me?" It's laughable. "I'm the only one in this scenario who _is_ being sensible!"

Hank smiles his half smile, like he does when he thinks someone is being stupid but is too polite, or kind, to say it out loud. "Just listen to what I have to say," he says, "And then you can chuck me out if you want."

Again, Erik wonders why he hasn't chucked out Hank already. He sits on the edge of his bed and waves Hank to a chair in the corner. Hank perches on it awkwardly. Erik can't blame him – this scenario has suddenly got stranger than he'd like.

"There are," Hank starts, "Different kinds of perfection."

Erik snorts dismissively. Hank sets his jaw. "All right," he says. "Then I'll be blunt. Charles wants to be with you, not me."

Erik stares at him. Hank meets his gaze. "We've discussed it," he says.

Erik can't even imagine that conversation, can't imagine the compensations that Hank must have made, the hurt feelings bandied about everywhere. He struggles to keep hold of himself, to explain calmly how impossible he and Charles are.

"It doesn't matter what he wants," he says. "You are better for him. You'd do anything he asks."

Hank's face darkens into the sort of expression Erik has only ever seen on Beast. "Yes, I would," he agrees sharply. "Including creating a serum that turns him into an addict for ten years and makes him scared of his own powers."

Erik is momentarily speechless. Hank takes the opportunity to keep talking.

"Charles doesn't need someone who will just do what he asks," he says. "He needs someone who will argue with him. He's not a man who should just be agreed with and obeyed. He's too powerful and fallible for that. He needs someone who is going to challenge every decision he makes." Hank looks at Erik significantly over the top of his glasses. "He needs someone who will be difficult."

He still doesn't get it, Erik thinks viciously. No one does. He leans forward with intent.

"_I put him in that wheelchair_," he snaps. "Okay? I did that. Me. I'm the reason he'll never walk again. I don't just challenge him, I cause him physical harm. _I hurt him._ He should be staying as far away from me as possible."

He expects Hank to run out of the room. To just stand up, maybe nod in acknowledgement, and then leave. He should. Instead, Hank shakes his head sadly.

"That's Magneto talking," he says. "Not Erik. Magneto causes harm. Erik helps make defences for schools, he talks to young mutants who are lost and scared, he protects them and helps them hone their powers. He sees into what they are, and he tells them it is okay, that they should never hide it because they are brilliant the way they are. That is what Erik does. He _builds_, he doesn't destroy." Hank sits back. "This is what Charles has been telling you, but you never believed it from him because you thought his emotions were clouding his judgement. But he is not the only one who thinks this. We all do."

Erik thinks of Jean, who asked for him to help her specifically. He thinks of Wolverine, who simultaneously fought with him and gave him advice. He thinks of Scott, who he felt should have always hated him but never seemed to. He thinks of his clay pigeon shooting class, of his control class, of the self defence classes he had given. None of the students in those classes had ever accused him of being Magneto. Even when the Second Brotherhood appeared, no one openly attacked him. Was it possible he had somehow proved himself to them? When he was unable to even prove himself to himself?

"The wheelchair," he murmurs, sticking to the important fact.

"That was an accident," Hank replies firmly. "It is forgiven. You and I both know that you would never in your life intentionally hurt Charles."

Erik can no longer stay sitting down – he stands up and starts pacing instead. There is too much forgiveness in the room, too many allowances being made for him. Hank should be here to accuse him, to remind him that it was he who crippled the man he loves, to give Erik a reason to properly turn his back on all of this and run, run, _run_.

Hank is like Charles – he forgives so much with such apparent ease that it is impossible to hate him or to want any harm to come to him. Erik rubs his head, shoots the man a sidelong glance. "Why are you trying to talk me into being with him?" he asks. "This man is your partner."

Hank nods calmly. "Yes, and he has been for years. We've been happy together." Hank hesitates, and for the first time Erik sees a glimmer of the pain he is in, the sadness that anyone would feel when something good comes to an end. When he continues though, his voice is steady. "We helped each other when both of us needed it, we supported each other when times were hard. We were perfect then, a perfect match. But time has moved on. The school is flourishing, there are other things to focus on, and we're just not...the right fit anymore. We both agree on this. We love each other, but things have changed. Doesn't mean we'll never talk again, or work together again, or stop being friends." He hesitates again. "And then there are others to consider..."

A lightbulb goes off in Erik's head. "You mean Raven," he says.

Hank suddenly seems uncomfortable, miles more uncomfortable than he has been during this whole conversation, even when he was talking about his breakup with Charles. "In a way," he says evasively. "In part. We haven't...but I know she would like to..."

He shifts on his chair nervously. Erik says wryly, "She would."

There is a small silence, in which Hank scratches the back of his head in embarrassment and Erik tries to work out if he is dreaming. Things just don't go this..._right_. Not for him.

"It's not just her," Hank says, and there is a firmness in his voice that convinces Erik that this is no self-delusion, no denial, that this is the truth as Hank knows it. "It's not just you. I think we were falling apart before that. I've allowed Charles his own way too much, and he hasn't treasured me enough. And it's no one's fault. It's just...how it is."

Erik has an epiphany. For the first time in his life, he allows himself to _hope_. And suddenly the truth of Hank's words call to him, bring him in. _There are different kinds of perfection,_ Hank said. There is never just one perfection. Something can be perfect in multiple ways. Charles-and-Erik...it could be _perfect._

"I've been a bit of an idiot, haven't I," he hears himself say.

Hank half smiles. "No," he says. "You've just...been in love."

Erik's heart is hammering against his ribs, but hammering in excitement, which is entirely new. "Do you think...if I go back..."

Hank's half smile turns into a proper smile. "I think he would like that very much."

Erik stands irresolute, transfixed by sudden hope, his heart singing in a way that it hasn't for an very long time. Hank stands up, brushing down his jumper as though he has done nothing more emotionally draining than having dinner. "I've got to go," he says.

Erik examines him. "Back to the mansion?"

"No." Hank hesitates. "I need to just...get away for a while. Clear my head a bit."

Erik finds himself pause as well. "About Raven," he says awkwardly. "She really does..." He trails off, not sure what to say, but that is apparently enough, because a little smile is quivering at the corner of Hank's mouth.

"She does?" he says.

"She does," Erik confirms.

Hank's little quiver of a smile blooms across his face, a sudden blast of the same emotion that is currently bouncing up and down in Erik's chest. "Right," he says. "Okay, that's...good to know."

"So," Erik says, "Don't stay away for too long. Okay?"

Hank nods. "Okay," he says.

Erik surveys the man in front of him. Even at his darkest moments, even when he was punching Hank in the face and treating him like dirt, he could never hate the man. Genius Hank, who spends his human moments helping fix the world and his beast moments kicking arse. No one could hate such a person. Even Erik, with parts of his soul so black that sometimes he think the damage will never be fixed, even Erik can't hate him.

He wants to shake Hank by the hand, grip his arm maybe, but instead he steps out of the door, leaves Hank in the motel room and gets into his car.

He has a long way to go, but he's going home.

* * *

**A/N: This is NOT the last chapter, I have at least one more in the works! So stay turned for the finale! :) Thanks for all the love!**


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